What Could Have Been
by WellDoneBeca
Summary: After years of suffering, Sansa Stark was finally happy. She had a husband, four beautiful children and was home. Still, even after 8 happy years with Podrick, she can't help but think what could have been if Jon hadn't left her. When he comes to the celebration of the 10th year of her reign, some feelings that had been long buried come to surface once again.
1. One

Sansa took a long breath when the sunlight woke her up. It was morning already, a morning she had both waited too long to arrive but was afraid of living at the same time.

"Pod?" she called in a whisper, feeling the heavy arm around the middle.

He hadn't left in the night, which Sansa didn't really know if it was good or bad. They didn't share a bed every night but did so more often than not and their four children plus the one in her belly were enough proof of that. They should still be asleep, but not for very long. Maybe they took that from their mother, but none enjoyed sleeping late, always enjoying the hours of the morning.

"Yes?" Podrick muttered onto the back of her neck.

"It's time to wake up."

He didn't answer verbally, only pulling her closer, and Sansa licked her lips when his manhood poked her bum.

"Can we stay here a bit?" he asked, glancing at the light coming from the windows. "It's very early,"

Sansa let out a very soft moan when he started to move against her, taking his hand to her thigh and slowly lifting her night shift.

"We have things to do," she closed her eyes but didn't move or ask him to stop.

"We can take a moment," he kissed her skin and dipped under the furs to lie between her legs, taking his place and making the Queen jump as soon as his lips and tongue touched her most sensitive parts.

When they had gotten married, Sansa didn't know what to expect from Podrick. At 22 and two years into her reign, she wasn't the innocent maiden she'd once been, and everything she knew of laying with a man was the pain Ramsay enjoyed inflicting her. Her new husband – the one she had chosen to marry when it became clear the lords wouldn't be calmed without an assurance of a Stark heir for the North – wasn't like any of the others that came before him. They were both there by their own choice, and he knew better than to wish her to fully love him and let go of her past, but made his mission to love her and their children the best he could and to make her feel like in heaven every single day.

When in bed, he would kiss her all over and make her peak before putting himself in her, and then would give her even more pleasure before spilling his seed. He would talk to her, and listen to her worries when she felt comfortable to open up with him, and knew his place was to be her husband and a lord, not the king. They both knew who the people considered the King in the North, and he would never replace him in their hearts, or in Sansa's heart.

Podrick knew his wife would never tell him about what had happened between her and her cousin, but he knew that what they had had before he left to the wall. He didn't need words to know that Jon Snow was the one who owned her heart. It was not that his wife didn't love him, but she would never love him like she had loved Jon. He'd hurt her, and nothing could change that, even him.

"God," Sansa let out in a tight moan when he entered her, connecting their foreheads and taking her sweet lips in a kiss. Maybe after this child was born, they could have another. The North was thriving and the people celebrated more and more every time they announced they were expecting another prince or princess. Maybe another child would take her mind away from Jon Snow and show her that her husband was more than just a liability she had gained affection for.

Podrick kept his eyes open when Sansa peaked around him, kissing her wildly while chasing his own pleasure.

They lied there, and she gave herself a moment to just appreciate him. Reaching and kissing his lips softly.

"We should go now," Sansa whispered. "People will be arriving soon."

He smiled and cupped her stomach. There was a roundness there that wasn't there a month or two before. Maybe they were having twins again, she was growing just as fast as when she was pregnant with Robb and Ned.

"Wait until they hear the news," he smiled.

He waited until he was facing away from her to ask what was in his mind since the letter had arrived. This way, he would avoid seeing Sansa's reacting to the implications of it.

"Is Lord Commander Snow arriving today?"

His wife stopped and took a long breath.

"Yes," the Queen confirmed. "His chambers were settled."

Today was the 10th anniversary of her coronation, and the nobles and common people had been invited to Winterfell for a celebration. Sansa invited Jon every year for all their celebrations: Her name day, the name day of each child and the celebrations of her years as Queen. He never showed up for any of those, nor for her coronation or her wedding day. It was a surprise to hear that he would come this time; she could barely believe it and was honestly expecting him not to come. Ten years without seeing him were painful, but maybe it had been for the best. She had a husband and four children. She was happy. So why did she still need to see him before letting herself fully believe that?


	2. Two

"Mother!" the two clear voices called her as soon as she was on the yard. "Mother, look!"

Robb and Eddard were the first glimpse of a different life Sansa had had after marrying Podrick. She had conceived in their first year together, two babies with hair as red and eyes as blue as their mother's, but with the Stark sharp features. Now they were seven, and dreamed of being young warriors, not knowing what that actually meant.

The two were pointing to the gates, and when Sansa turned, her eyes instantly lit up.

"Arya!" the Queen exclaimed, and the short brunette didn't wait for anyone to help her dismount before jumping out of her horse and walking to her sister, who engulfed her in a hug. The last time they'd seen one another, Sansa was about to birth Rickon, her third son, but Arya hadn't stayed long enough to meet the baby.

"Where were you this time?" the Queen asked, smiling openly.

"Myr," her sister answered. "I bought fabric and girl stuff, I know you like those."

"You didn't have to."

Arya ignored her words and turned to look over her shoulder.

"We also brought someone you should meet."

Sansa shifted her gaze to behind her sister, and couldn't help her surprise when her eyes fell on the bundle in Gendry's arms.

"You… No!" she exclaimed.

"I'm as surprised as you are that I put myself through it," Arya laughed. "I don't know how you managed to do it twice."

Sansa bit her lips.

"Thrice, actually."

Her sister gave her a surprised look.

"Already?"

"And maybe again in five months," Sansa whispered. "But it's a secret."

Arya laughed out loud.

"You are a rabbit."

Sansa ignored her and walked to the man holding the baby.

"It's a girl," Gendry informed the Queen. "Serena."

Serena couldn't be older than three months and had every bit of her mother she could possibly have, except for her large blue eyes, and Sansa couldn't help but wonder if they were Tully or Baratheon eyes for a moment.

"You said three times," her sister stopped by her side. "Are there any girls?"

"No girls," the redhead chuckled. "Four boys."

Arya only laughed more.

"Oh, the dream! No girl for you to dress up."

Sansa shook her head.

"Maybe this time," she said, hopeful, and turned to the maid that had followed her. "Please make sure there's a crib for Serena in the chambers we've prepared for my sister and Lord Gendry and show him the nursery."

The woman did a short curtsy and obeyed, allowing Sansa to be alone with her sister once and for all.

"Is Bran coming?"

"Yes," Sansa confirmed. "He must be arriving soon."

She looked down to her feet and then around the castle, trying not to sound affected.

"Jon will be here just as well."

Arya merely turned to her, in silence. She knew there was something sore between Jon and Sansa since he'd left. She hadn't managed to protect him from his sentence and chastised herself for that, and they were hiding something Arya couldn't quite catch. Any time she visited Jon at the wall and even mentioned Sansa, she could see the pain in his eyes, and the same hurt was in her sister's eyes whenever their cousin came into question. There was something there, but she didn't really think she wanted to know.

"It's your 10 th year as Queen, after all," she reminded her redhead sister. "They wouldn't miss the celebration."

They fell back into silence, and Arya quickly changed the subject.

"Let me see my nephews."

As if they were waiting for her to call them, the twins ran to their sister almost at the same time, crashing onto her legs and hugging her. They had seen her just once but had cherished every letter and gift Arya had sent from her trips around the world, all of them keeping the memory of her alive.

"Can we show you our sword skills, Aunt Arya?" Robb asked, and the brunette only raised her eyes to her sister, joining the two pairs of pleading eyes.

"You are to ask for wooden swords, do you hear me?" she instructed.

"Yes mother," Ned confirmed.

Only then, Sansa nodded and smiled at the three when the two boys ran excitedly with her sister behind them, moving her focus to her husband while he walked in her direction.

"I just saw Lady Brienne on the road," he informed her. "She has come with the King."

"How many men?" she asked.

"Very few. One wheelhouse and maybe 40 men. Less than you'd expect from a King."

Sansa rested her hand on her stomach, a habit she'd picked up on her first pregnancy.

"Bran doesn't like to bring many people. He probably has Lord Tyrion with him, gods know the man can't be away from you for too long."

Her husband laughed, though not denying. It was true.

It took the group just minutes to get there, but no one in the castle gathered much to pay attention to their group. It was Bran, after all. He had said himself that there was no need.

Brienne was the first to leave her horse and drop to her knee when she approached the Queen.

"Your Grace," the Knight said respectfully before Sansa motioned her to stand up.

"Hello again, Brienne," she smiled. "I hope your journey here was peaceful."

"Very peaceful, your grace. Thank you."

"How is little Renly?" she asked.

After the war, Brienne had had a son, a boy no one doubted wasn't Jaime Lannister's, and had revealed herself as a good mother while still a warrior. He was now a bit older than nine now, and the apple of Lord Selwyn's eyes, being raised by his grandfather to be the heir of Evenstar.

"He's well," the knight declared.

The Queen turned her face to see her brother coming down of the Wheelhouse he'd come in, leaving the two people behind and taking him in a hug without any ceremony.

"Sansa," he said simply.

Sansa stepped away and lowered her eyes to see her first husband watching her silently.

"Lord Tyrion," she gave him a tight smile.

"Your Grace," he did a small curtsy. "Thank you for welcoming us to your home."

"You're welcome."

"Are we the last to arrive?" he questioned.

Sansa tried to keep her expression neutral while looking at him.

"No," she denied. "Jon is still coming."

Tyrion gave her a look she couldn't quite describe.

"I didn't know that," he noted.

"He's always invited to our celebrations," Podrick said behind her, laying a protective hand on his wife's back. "He's part of the family."

The short man nodded to himself.

"Of course he is."

Sansa ignored the looks the two men exchanged and smiled at her husband. He always defended her.

"I'll show you your chambers, my lord. Your grace. I'm sure my wife wants to be here to see her cousin arriving."

They left, leaving Sansa alone in the yard, waiting.

Jon would be there soon. He had said he would come. He wouldn't disappoint her.


	3. Three

"He wouldn't stop calling for you, your grace," the milkmaid affirmed, handing the crying toddler to Sansa. "I didn't know what to do."

She had been standing on the bridge that gave her a view of the Queen's Road for some time already, waiting for a sign of the men of the Night's Watch, for a sign of Jon Snow, and wondered if her young boy was feeling the same angst she felt in her heart.

While Ned and Robb had recently turned seven and Rickon was close to his 5 th nameday, her youngest boy was just a few weeks older than two and was by far the one who needed her the most, not just for his age, but for some clear need of frequent affection and attention. Theon Stark, named after, the friend who risked everything to save her life.

She had struggled for a week after birth before giving him his name. She thought about naming him Jon, but how could she give the name of her lost almost-lover to her son? That was masochism.

"What's wrong, baby?" she caressed his cheek. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Theon was the one between their four children that had his father's dark hair, although he still had the Stark looks and the dark eyes that Sansa had seen on her father, sister and then-half-brother growing up. Maybe the babe she was carrying now would finally look like Podrick. Her husband had beautiful and soft looks.

Sansa rocked her boy slowly, humming one of the many songs Catelyn sang to her and her siblings long ago. She couldn't remember her mother's voice anymore, but she remembered every one of the songs.

"Open the gates," a man shouted, and Sansa raised her eyes from her toddler's face to see the small group of men almost entering Winterfell, quickly recognising the mop of black curly hair among them.

Jon.

Holding Theon tightly in her arms, she rushed down the stairs almost desperately and had just planted her foot on the ground when the men dismounted the kneeled in respect and submission, Jon being the first of them to drop down.

"Your grace," he said, still looking down. "Thanking you for your invitation."

She had to stop herself from pulling him right up and held back the tears in her eyes. Ten years. A lifetime.

"Stand up," she commanded strongly.

Jon complied, and his shoulders sagged as soon as he laid eyes on her, releasing a tension they were both unknowingly holding.

"You haven't changed at all," he said, staring into her face with fascination.

"Neither have you," Sansa noted.

He was still the same man she'd said farewell in King's Landing. It was almost as if time had frozen the two of them.

"I suppose that's Theon," he looked at the young toddler in her arms, who'd stopped crying to look at the strange man in front of him.

"Yes," Sansa moved a hand to fix her son's hair.

Jon took the boy's hand delicately in his and did a smallbow bow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, your grace," he said to the boy before turning to his mother. "I hope he is not so similar to his namesake, though."

She laughed in a way she didn't even remember she could in response.

"No," Sansa affirmed. "Thank gods, no. He's very sweet and not a troublemaker at all. That one is Rickon."

Jon only smiled and gave the maid who'd just come to take the boy from the Queen's arms a nod.

"Take him to his father, it's time for them to eat."

"Yes, your grace."

When the woman left, she turned back to Jon.

"Congratulations on your family," he pointed out. "It's very beautiful."

Sansa raised her eyebrows to him.

"You haven't met all of them."

"I don't have to," Jon looked down at his feet. "You were always destined to have many beautiful children."

She moved her eyes to the yard, suddenly feeling the angst from earlier crawling into her insides again.

"I don't believe in destiny, you know that," Sansa sighed. "We do what we can with what we have."

Jon sighed.

"Sansa…"

"Don't," she interrupted him. "I'm married now. I have a family. I have…"

"Everything I denied you," he finished her sentence, and the pain was clear in his voice this time.

Sansa closed her eyes. She thought of her boys and their memories together, of her people and how she was there to see Winterfell thriving, and about Podrick.

"He gave me almost everything I needed to be happy," she told Jon, almost as if that was going to settle the subject between them.

"Almost?"

She closed her eyes. Almost. She was content. She was fine. Her life was good and prosper, she had a beautiful family, but…

"He isn't you," the Queen almost choked out, feeling tears coming to her eyes. "He'll never be."

Jon wanted to reach out of her, but knew better, only staying in his place.

"I'm sorry."

To that, Sansa sighed.

"I know you are. But it doesn't change anything, does it?"

He was ready to answer when a voice interrupted them, and one of the kitchen maids walked in their direction.

"The meal is ready, your grace. Lord Stark and the princes are waiting for you."

She nodded and gave the woman a smile before looking back at Jon, who had an understanding look on his face. Stark. Podrick had taken her name, it wasn't a surprise.

"I'll see you later. Excuse me."

"Of course, your grace."

Jon was ready to bow after his words but stopped himself. Sansa was already leaving before he had finished talking.


	4. Four

_One of Sansa's hands was curled in his hair, while the other cupped his face. Late in her solar, away from the prying eyes and locked in such an intimate place, they didn't have to hide or pretend. For a moment, he wasn't the King in the North and she wasn't the lady of Winterfell, neither were two half-siblings ashamed of what their relationship had become. They were together and they were in love. It was enough._

_" Sansa," Jon let out a small sound that resembled a growl into her neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume like it was the air he needed to live._

_" Jon."_

_He held her around the waist with a touch as hot as fire, pulling her so close there was no space between them, but never giving in to the desire of doing more than that._

_" Don't go," she whispered. "Stay with me."_

"Sansa?" she felt a hand on top of hers and jumped in surprise.

Podrick. It was Podrick.

"Are you feeling alright?" her husband asked, showing worry on his features.

No.

She shouldn't have invited Jon. He shouldn't have come, he shouldn't be around her anymore. He had left Winterfell and ignored her for ten years. Why was she still trying… She didn't even know what she was trying to do.

"Yes," she lied. "I'm just a bit nauseous."

Her husband gave her a look that showed he was clearly not convinced, but the presence of the children and the maids who helped them feed Rickon and Theon was probably what kept him from saying anything.

"Is it because of the babe?" Robb asked.

Sansa gave him a small smile. Robb and Ned were growing up fast and smart and were excited with the possibility of a new sibling.

"It is, my love," she affirmed.

"Maester Wolkan said that sometimes the babe makes the mother nauseous or more tired when they are still in her belly," the boy said in an explanatory tone. "Did Aunt Arya feel like that with Serena?"

His mother held back a chuckle. It would certainly be something new to see her sister pregnant. She was sad that she had lost such an opportunity.

"Probably," she decided. "You should ask her when you have the time."

When she turned to glance at Podrick, he was still looking at her, and Sansa forced herself to smile when he covered her hand with his and caressed her skin with his thumb.

The rest of the meal continued in silence, and when Maya and Sheylla left to clean and bathe the children, the couple was left alone for the first time since the arrivals in the morning.

"What is it?" he asked, reaching for her.

Sansa just took a deep breath, trying to ease herself onto her husband's touch, though it felt suddenly foreign.

"I'm nervous," she finally said, and it wasn't a full lie. "It's the first time since the battle that everyone is here together at the same time. Brienne is here, Sor Davos and his wife arrived yesterday, Bran and Tyrion, Arya and Gendry, and the Night's Watch…"

"And Jon," he added.

When Sansa looked up to his eyes, he didn't have the judging look she imagined he'd have. He was trying to understand her. It was as if he knew what she was trying to hide.

"Pod…"

"I know something happened before us," he said before she could defend herself. "Before Daenerys, I supposed."

' Did you bend the knee because of the North or because you love her?'

Even after death, the Targaryen Queen came back to haunt her life.

"It pains you to see him here," Podrick whispered. "Why invite him?"

Sansa made silence, unable to answer for a moment. He was right. Why invite him at all?

"He's the only family I had for a long time," she told him, finally. "And he still left. And I still wanted him back more than I had ever wanted anything in my life."

She put a hand on her stomach, caressing the small bump to calm herself down.

_"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen," he said, and Sansa crossed her hands in front of her body, almost creating a protection from the woman. "My sister, Sansa Stark. The Lady of Winterfell."_

_Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen. The daughter of the man who killed her uncle and grandfather, the woman who kept the only man she had even truly loved captive and could have stolen her from him so swiftly before she could even fight… And worse. The woman who wanted to take her home away from her family again._

_" Thank you for inviting us to your home, Lady Stark," Queen Daenerys gave her a smile Sansa knew was just political. "The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed. And so are you."_

_Sansa knew better than to take her empty words and only glanced at Jon before nodding at the woman by his side. She's no Queen of mine._

_" Winterfell is yours, Your Grace."_

Her father had once promised her that when she was old enough, he'd make her a match with someone who was worthy of her. Someone brave, gentle and strong. For some time, she wondered if this would be Jon, but he wasn't that someone. He wasn't brave, or he wouldn't have ignored their past when she offered her royal pardon as soon as she was issued Queen in the North. He wasn't gentle, or he wouldn't have broken her heart the way he did. He wasn't strong, or he would have resisted temptation when it called for him far from home.

_" We could have gotten her help in a different way, we could have convinced her," she pointed out. "You didn't need to give her the North, but you did. You didn't need to lay with her, but you did."_

_Jon closed his eyes._

_" How did you know?" he lowered his head and his tone._

_" You weren't going to tell me, were you?" she asked._

_Jon reached out to hold her hand, but she pulled away from him._

_" Don't touch me."_

She closed her eyes.

"Pod…" she whispered.

Her husband didn't need other words to pull her into his arms, kissing her forehead and caressing her back as she cried onto his shoulder.

"I need to get through the day," Sansa decided after a moment, but Podrick held her.

"You're the Queen. You can give yourself a moment to recompose."

She sighed. He was right.

"Alright."


	5. Five

The music was loud and the people were drinking like never before. Tormund and some free men had arrived to celebrate with them, and Jon and had blended in like never before, and the kids that had come to fill the North since its reconstruction were playing together outside with maids caring for them.

Pod was sat beside Sansa, both of them enjoying the food and socialising with all guests except for Jon, who was clearing brooding on his place. The Queen in the North and her Lord husband were a sight to be seen, matching even in clothing and so in synch it hurt to see. After some wine, Podrick had even started picking the foods Sansa liked and feeding her with his own fingers. He looked at her as if his wife was something made in heaven and more than he deserved after a thousand lives of good deeds, and she looked as beautiful as even, as if she had hardly ever been pregnant in her life, much less three times already.

The whole hall became silent when the Queen stood up from her seat, followed by the young Lord Stark, all their eyes fixated on them.

"We have news," Sansa announced. "Lord Podrick and I are happy no announce that the gods were good. We are expecting once again."

The men roared in celebration, raising their drinks, and Sansa giggled when Arya mouthed 'Rabbits' in their direction. Lord Tyrion wasn't any close to that discreet when he walked to Podrick and slapped him on the back.

"Five kids in eight years, Podrick?!" he exclaimed. "Is Her Grace even allowed to leave her bedchambers to care for the North?"

Her husband laughed, pink in the cheeks both from the drinking and the insinuation.

"I find time to sneak into her chamber when she's done with the people," he corrected his friend. "She's Queen before she is my wife, after all."

"Then congratulations, my lord and your grace," the dwarf gladly raised his cup along with his voice. "And may you have another five children to fill this castle and your people with joy."

Those who heard them raised their cups to the toast, including Arya, Gendry and even Bran. Jon followed, almost grumpily, but didn't say anything. Jealousy was bubbling inside him, and he was afraid that – after the goat's milk, the ale, and the wine – anything he said would be clearly filled with it, so it was best to keep himself shut.

A couple rose to the empty space they had opened for those who dared to dance, and that had seen to give the lord of Winterfell an idea of what to do. More regally than Jon expected Podrick Payne to be, he stood up and offered a hand to his wife.

"My Queen. Shall you give me the honour of this dance?"

And she did. Gods, Sansa danced gracefully, and had apparently taught her husband enough steps that he didn't look like a fool beside her. There was love between them, everyone could see. Older inhabitants of the castle could even claim that this was like seeing young lord Stark and his Tully wife starting to kindle their romance and love all over again.

Jon couldn't take it. Utilising the fact that everyone in the room was paying attention to the royal couple, he walked out of the room the same way he'd once done when King Robert had visited Winterfell, and took a moment to contemplate the children playing in the yard. Robb and Rickon certainly took after their namesakes when it came to their looks, and Jon couldn't help but wonder how strongly they would resemble their mother had they been his sons and not Podrick's, had he taken different paths and made different choices. Would any of the children have his dark hair and eyes or inherit the white locks of his father's house?

There was a reason he hadn't come to Winterfell in this many years. When she was crowned Queen, he told himself she would give up once he saw him and would offer him the North's crown back. When she invited him to her wedding, he told himself that he wouldn't be able to take seeing her marrying the squire boy under a heart tree when he had more than once dreamed to be the one taking her under his name. When her children were born and he was invited to the celebratory feasts, they gave in their names, he would say to himself that he couldn't look at those babes and not imagine what would be like if they were his. Jon regretted many things every day of his life. Not coming home to Sansa Stark when she begged and begged was now one of them. Not telling her the truth - the real truth, that everything he did he'd done to protect her - was the biggest of all.

He was standing in the battlements when he heard her approaching. Now that he was looking, he could see the glow on her face, the one he'd seen on Gilly and the women he'd seen when they were pregnant – not that he'd seen so many.

Sansa didn't say anything when she stopped by her side, and neither did he for a long time, until the silence was too painful to stand.

"You're beautiful," he decided to say.

"Thank you," she touched the sleeve of her dress. "I sewed it myself."

Jon looked back onto the horizon.

"You always do. No seamstress can ever come to do the things you do with a dress."

She didn't respond to the compliment, and he shifted on his feet.

"He looked like he truly loves you," Jon noted. "It's beautiful."

"I told you that," she turned her head to look at him. "Pod loves me. He has probably loved me for longer than I've noticed."

He turned to her with a confused look.

"He was Lord Tyrion's squire when I was married to him. We were often left alone and he was probably the only person who was always kind to me without expecting anything in exchange. Even if I mistreated him out of anger for the other people, he was never mean to me. Father would be proud that I married him, I know that at least."

Jon didn't answer. He wanted to ask her questions, but didn't know what questions. He wanted to hear her saying something to him, but didn't even know what.

"Do you love him?" he finally asked. "Like a wife loves a husband?"

Sansa nodded.

"I do. I never thought I would but I do. Maybe not the way I…" she stopped, struggling with the words. "Not the way I loved you. But I love him."

The words pierced through him.

"Loved?"

The Queen by his side let out a sound of annoyance she was holding since he'd stepping in Winterfell, and he saw as tears filled her eyes.

"It's been 10 years, Jon. You made yourself clear that night, you didn't choose me. It took me three years to accept that and move on. I begged you for your love before the war like a fool, and I begged for it again when you arrived with another woman, and begged when I released you from your sentence. I begged you to come home. I begged and begged and begged, and you didn't come."

Jon just stood in silence as the tears streamed down her beautiful face. He wanted to reach out for her, to hug her and kiss her, tell her he never loved Daenerys and everything he did was for her own good but how could him when, seeing now, this was the best he could have done for her? So he just stood there in silence.

"You don't have the right to ask me questions, you don't have the right to even think that my husband doesn't love me with all his heart and soul!" she kept her voice cold. "I fought for you because you are my family and I forgave you more times than I can count. But I can't take more of this, Jon."

Finally, he nodded, and she moved a hand to dry her tears before looking at him again with a question she had been wanting to ask since the night she'd expelled him from her solar, eleven years ago.

"Did you ever sincerely love me?"

Jon raised his eyes to Sansa, feeling all sorts of pain; missing her even though she was right in front of him.

"I can't answer that, Your Grace."

Except he could. But ten years had passed, and Sansa was happy: She had people who loved her, a husband who would give her the world, the moon and the stars if she ever asked him for them, four beautiful sons and another child in her belly. Any words that he said wouldn't change the past in any way, it wouldn't change what the ten years he had avoided her because he couldn't deal with the consequences of his actions. He loved her with all his heart but this wasn't what she needed.

He would suffer, yes, but this was the closure Sansa needed to truly move on.

So he just lowered his head and left. Maybe he'd be back someday to see if her babe would finally be a girl, and Sansa would have the daughter she always wanted. Just maybe. For now, he would bury the 'what ifs' somewhere he couldn't find them any more.


	6. Six

Sansa watched Jon, unsure of what to do. Should she go after him?

For the first time in years, she didn't want to. She didn't want to stop him or even ask where he was going. She was tired of that emotional mess. Anything she had had with Jon was gone and it was time to leave it where it belonged: In the past.

"Uncle Jon, Uncle Jon!" Ned ran to him, and Jon stopped in the middle of the yard, giving the other children the opportunity to surround him. "Can you tell us stories of beyond the wall?"

The Lord Commander forced himself to turn to look at the Queen, looking for guidance. They were her children, after all.

What a way to follow after such a fight.

"Your grace?"

Sansa walked to them graciously, and Jon followed her feet with his eyes. She had a delicate walk, almost as if she was floating just steps above the thin snow that coated the ground.

"Don't scare them," she instructed. "Please."

He just nodded, and the two turned their heads to see Podrick walking out of the castle, walking to his wife with worry of his face.

"Sansa," he stopped by her side, laying a hand on her lower back. "Do you feel well?"

The children around the three watched them, some confused and the others just hoping the Queen and the Lord of Winterfell would just leave so Lord Commander Snow could tell his story.

"Yes. We were just talking. Ten years apart demands a lot of catching up."

Her husband smiled and reached out, kissing Sansa's lips delicately. The gesture came so naturally that Jon was taken aback for a moment, quickly reminding himself that they were together for eight years. For a moment, it was like seeing Ned and Catelyn again, not for their appearances – although Sansa was her mother's perfect portrait – but for how he could see the love between them even if he tried his best to ignore it.

"It's good to see you here, Jon," Podrick affirmed, and Jon felt a pinch of jealousy in his own heart at how sincere the man sounded at first. "Sansa missed you very much. She was very sad when we found out you couldn't come to our wedding back then and our celebrations after that. It's good to see that you decided to clean a few days to visit us, after all."

Jon's adam's apple bobbed under Sansa's eyes, and she held back an expression of surprise powdered with sass. She hadn't been able to say what Pod had just said to her former lover and was happy someone else had the same thought as her. It wasn't regal for her to say what was in her mind – even if it was with someone she was supposed to be close to – but her husband wasn't a royal or even raised as a prominent member of a noble family. He could afford the luxury of insinuating the Lord Commander had been actively avoiding his own family.

"We should get inside," Sansa finally intervened, "The children want to hear Jon's stories and I was wondering if we could have a last dance."

Podrick turned to her, the shadow of hostility he had on his eyes vanishing at the smile of the woman he called wife.

"I'll dance as many dances as you want, my love."

Sansa smiled more openly and took his hand, not bothering to spare a glance at Jon when leaving with Podrick. They'd dance, and her conversation with the man she once loved would soon be just another memory of the night, much smaller than the happier ones she'd created with everyone around.

The night came too early, however, and she couldn't avoid the conversation she'd have to have with Podrick. So they sat in the Lord's chamber – the place she came to occupy and became his own part-time chambers – in silence, the man who'd met her so many years ago waiting for what she had to say.

Sansa crossed her hands one over the other, quiet and terrified of the consequences that her words would be, she needed to tell Podrick the truth. He gave her all of his heart and soul every day for eight long years, and she couldn't hold that from him anymore.

"I loved him," she finally found the courage to say. "I loved him a lot, actually. More than I should have, I know that now."

Her husband only watched her, taking the words silently, and the Queen continued the words, clearly putting an effort on it.

"In Castleback… I don't know what came to us in Castleblack, honestly. He'd just died and was brought back to life and I felt free for the first time in my whole life. Joffrey was dead, Cersei was in King's Landing, Ramsay couldn't reach me… I had someone who loved me and would do anything for me. That's where it started."

She stopped to breathe and raised her eyes to see what was on his face, and Podrick finally spoke that question he'd been asking himself for long years.

"Have you ever lied with him?"

She shook her head.

"Never. We only went as far as kissing that night, and every night after that. It was as if I was out of my mind… Well, I really was out of my mind," she corrected herself.

Sansa moved her hands to her face, covering herself in shame. She couldn't even understand what had happened to her to feel like that then.

"Gods, it was exhausting. Hiding and pretending nothing was different, while I loved him and hated myself for doing so. And then he left to Dragonstone, and the time apart helped me thinking."

"You thought it could work," he muttered, remembering the changes he'd seen in her during that time. "And then he came back."

Sansa bit her lower lip, feeling a much smaller version of the anger she'd felt years prior coming up.

"I was heartbroken. I stopped talking to him except when needed and he never came after me with as much as an apology. When I stopped avoiding him, it was just in time to say goodbye."

Finally, she raised her eyes to look at him.

"And you know the rest of the story already. You were here for it."

For long and painful moments, Podrick just stood in silence, sat on his chair. He didn't even move his eyes from where they were resting on his hands, and for the first time in the eight years of marriage, Sansa felt fear. What if he stood up and left? What should she tell their children? And the baby in her belly… Jon had been a liability for years and she's just let all that pain go, She couldn't imagine him being the reason she'd be left all alone again.

"So, you did love him?" he asked, finally. "Truly?"

"The first real love I had in life," she sighed.

"I can see why it hurts you," he whispered. "Sounds painful."

She just nodded. To her surprise, however, he reached for her hand.

"It's in the past," he affirmed finally. "It's gone now."

Sansa's shoulders dropped, finally relaxing, and she lowered her head once again.

"It is. But seeing him still hurts."

"Then don't see him anymore," he said like it was obvious. "Leave him behind like the rest of your pain. You don't have to feel it, I don't want you to feel it, not anymore."

Sansa smiled softly and took his hand to her face, pressing her cheek onto his palm.

"You know I can't, she whispered. "He's my burden to bear."

He reached out, pulling her up and kissing his wife's lips, holding her face between his hands and moving one of them to her hair, undoing the braid as much as he could before pulling away and turning her around to finish it, kissing her pale neck gently and freeing the red locks he loved too much.

"My love for you will never…" he nibbled on her skin, moving up to her earlobe. "Ever…" he licked it. "Change."

Sansa let out a small whimper and let her head fall on his shoulder while Podrick's abled fingers undid her clothing, undressing her and making sure to kiss every inch of available skin he could find.

When was finally naked, he fell onto his knees in front of her, moving his hands up her longs legs and staring into his wife's piercing blue eyes.

"Let me adore you, my love," he whispered, kissing her creamy thigh. "Please?"


End file.
